Green Eyed Death
by Too Lazy To Answer Your Flame
Summary: [Harry replaces John – sorry John fans] [Sherlock/Harry] Ever wondered what it would be like to have an enigmatic, cheeky, Master of Death Harry as Sherlock's assistant instead? Well, Hadrian Black gets introduced to Sherlock as a potential flatmate the day before the fourth 'serial suicide' hits.


**Series One - Episode One: ****A Study in Pink - Scene One**

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**_[Harry replaces John – sorry John fans] [Sherlock/Harry]_** _Ever wondered what it would be like to have an enigmatic, cheeky, Master of Death Harry as Sherlock's assistant instead? Well, Hadrian Black gets introduced to Sherlock as a potential flatmate the day before the fourth 'serial suicide' hits._

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_Reality: Two_

_Location: England, London, St. Bartholomew's Hospital_

_Date: 2010 – Friday 29th January_

_Time: 11:26 am_

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He glanced up from the Petri dish as the door to the lab creaked open. Sherlock had already heard the weighted but light footsteps of the medical teacher, Mike Stamford, so he wasn't surprised to see him emerge from the hallway and sit himself down across the white table. Instead, he made a few quick observations of the man that followed in from behind Mike. _Messy black hair, bright green eyes, lithe build, 5 foot 5, estimated age around 25._ The man took a look around the lab, eyes circled around the room, scanning its exits and layout before taking in the white tables and equipment. _Wary and alert but it seems to be a habit now_.

"This place sure is fancy." The man's gaze landed on him for a moment but they swiftly turn to Mike with a sly smile, elbows braced on the table. "They must pay you a fortune."

Mike gave a huffy laugh. "But not nearly enough to put up with those brats." Sherlock could see from the corner of his peripheral vision that Green-Eyes (as Sherlock dubbed him for now) was still leaning against the table with that fox-like smile curled on his lips. Mike just sighed in exasperation at it. "And no, I'm not going to lend you any money."

Green-Eyes slumped for a second before he lit another grin on his face. "Well, it was worth a try."

_Money troubles?_ Sherlock filed that away.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." He cut into their conversation suddenly and Green-Eyes lazily rolled his head round to peer at him through his eyelashes while Mike began searching the insides of his pockets.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" The medical teacher asked casually, but Sherlock could hear the slight irritated undertone. He supposed he did have that effect on people. "I prefer to text."

"Sorry." It sounded completely unapologetic. "It's in my coat."

"Here." He blinked in surprise as a black oblong object was hurled towards him. It was only his quick reflexes that caught the object, a phone he realised, in mid-flight, centimetres away from his face. "Use mine." Green-Eyes smiled at him innocently and Sherlock returned it with his own, polite and cold. "Thank you."

_Didn't even see him move. Swift throw. Practised._

The two of them stare at each other, sizing the other up as Mike moved to introduce Green-Eyes. "He's a friend of mine, Hadrian Black." Green-Eyes (Hadrian, his mind says) quirks the corner of his mouth up into a small smirk. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr Holmes." His voice was low, somewhat reminisce of a purr and it strongly remained Sherlock of a lazy cat. Natural grace and smooth elegance.

"I take it you've heard of me, then?" He asked as he took a brief look at the phone, _IPhone 4, well-looked after, worn screen, minor crack and stain on the side, _and unlocked it without a moment's thought before texting Lestrade. "Yeah, stumbled on your website a few months back. The Science of Deduction." He gazed up from the phone at that, not pausing in his text.

_If brother has green ladder_

_arrest brother._

_SH_

Sherlock smiled proudly, puffing up slightly. "What did you think of it?"

Green-Eyes tilted his head, most likely mulling over what to say. Sherlock deflated at that. While he was quite pleased with his page, not many people visited it and fewer really took it seriously.

Abruptly, Mike's watch gave two beeps, probably an alarm, and dashed out, muttering a quick bye which neither of the two acknowledged more than with a slight nod in his direction. Sherlock guessed it was the medical teachers' monthly meeting.

There was a second of silence before Green-Eyes spoke. "It was interesting…" He paused a little and looked at him in the eye with a challenging smirk. "You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb."

There was something predatory about Green Eyes in that moment, saucy smile and intense stare. Inexplicably, Sherlock felt exposed with the man's full attention. The feeling was completely illogical and yet it was there. "Impress me, Sherlock." A shiver ran down his spine, which was most definitely due to the cold air and not from the way Green-Eyes' tongue caressed his name.

He accepted the silent challenge. Sherlock was not going to let the man question his abilities in deduction.

"I can deduce that in the same way I can read your less than legal courier job from your phone and your hands, and your old family problems from your eyes." He held up the phone and examined it in closer detail out loud. "Your phone. It's expensive, IPhone, need I say more? But you're searching for a flat-share – you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then."

"I never said anything about a flat-share."

"It's obvious. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. And here you are, a friend of his with money problems." Sherlock scoffed at the interruption before he flipped the phone over, showing its side and carrying on with his deductions.

"This crack here. Only something traveling at a high velocity could have caused this mark, something small too, if you look at the size. The little blood stain only confirms that it was made by a bullet."

"So, you were shot, in the past year, considering it takes a year to completely remove blood stains; but the question is, why were you shot? You can't have been with either the police or army since neither of them allow their recruits to have their phones with them on duty, distraction and such – so, that leaves the underground network."

He then tossed the phone back, perhaps throwing it a bit harder and faster than necessary but Green-Eyes caught it just fine. _Fine-tuned reflexes. _The damnable smirk is still on his face but the light in his eyes darken. "Then there are your hands."

"You have faint callouses, on the palms and the underside of your fingers and thumbs. They're too light and in the wrong area to be from any musical instruments or military training, but correlate with those from a bike grip."

"I'm also guessing you wear gloves when you're on your motorbike, logical considering who and what you deal with."

"So, your job must involve long hours on a motorbike and it's on the little less than legal side of the law; underground courier. Wasn't that difficult of a leap."

"The next one's obvious. When you first came into the lab, you scanned the interior for the closest exit and its quickest route before anything else, and then you observed any unknown persons in the room. Any threats."

"You didn't seem to notice you did it, so it's a habit, but it was done too quickly and too efficiently for it to have been ingrained during the last ten years, so, the habit was established in your childhood, but it couldn't have been from your underground business as you scanned specifically for the exits. You would have been looking for any hidden weapons on me instead if it were."

There was a pause and Sherlock heard Green-Eyes let out an awed breath, head tilted in a mixture of appreciation and curiosity. The man's eyes were darker still, more pronounced as he leaning against the side of the table with his hip, arms crossed.

"That" Green-Eyes' voice sounded faintly husky. "was amazing. You really are extraordinary. Certainly impressed me." Sherlock felt an odd flutter rise in his mid-drift. Most likely because he rarely received complements for his deductions.

The moment, whatever it was, was interrupted when the door suddenly creaked open. Sherlock's head snapped towards the door, tensed as he had not heard the footsteps in his distraction. He relaxed as the hazel-haired registrar stepped through with a mug of coffee. She blushed at the flirtatious smile Green-Eyes flashed at her as she passed by, something which Sherlock decidedly ignored in favour of the mug the woman was carrying.

"Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you." He accepted the mug as he looked closely at her, noticing her paler lips. "What happened to the lipstick?"

Molly smiled awkwardly. "It wasn't working for me."

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement." He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced, setting the mug on the table. "Your mouth's too" There was a slight pause as the corner of his lips pulled down a little. "small now."

Her mouth parted as she fumbled to find something to say before she just answered with an embarrassed "Okay".

Green-Eyes dipped his head towards her as she turned to leave, lips ghosting by her ear and whispered something. Sherlock's eyes zoned in on the smooth pink skin but for the life him, he could tell what the man had said. It irritated him, perhaps more than it should. He didn't notice Molly leave, lightly flustered, still focused as he was on the man's lips. That was also the reason he didn't notice Green-Eyes as he prowled towards him.

It was only when Green-Eyes had wondered over to his work-station that Sherlock had realised he was staring and he quickly went back to his work. Green-Eyes hadn't seemed to realise, the man just watched his experiment with an idle, detached sort of interest. It was surprisingly comfortable, especially since he usually hated people peering over his shoulder.

They spent the next five minutes in a companionable silence and Sherlock would have forgotten Green-Eyes if not for his body heat. He practically radiated his warmth and made his presence all the more prominent against the cool January air. Sherlock felt the fluttering in his mid-drift start once more but couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed at the distraction. He made a mental note to investigate the anomaly later.

It was only when Sherlock had finished his experiment that Green-Eyes spoke up again.

"I'll take the flat."

"I'm sorry?" The statement had come out of now where and it surprised him that Green-Eyes would agree so readily into sharing a flat with him, a man that people normally tended to avoid.

"Well…" He looked at him cautiously, bottom lip worried between his teeth. "If you still want to with all the ex-courier business." Sherlock stilled. He found the statement awfully ironic but it was the last part of the sentence that caught his attention. "_Ex_-courier?"

"Hmm… Quit a little while ago and started getting money from writing weekly articles online instead."

Sherlock grit his teeth in frustration and exasperation. "_Ex_-_courier_! There's always something."

Green-Eyes seemed amused and offered a smile. "If it makes you feel any better, you're the first person to actually figure out my family problems." He let out a breath and his smile turned bittersweet. "Not even my best friend for four years knew about it."

Sherlock scoffed at that. "Four years? He must have been at Anderson's plebeian intelligence level."

Green-Eyes smirked at that and they shared a glance. "Well, I don't know who Anderson is, but I suppose Ron wasn't exactly the brightest spark in our year." He's expression lightened and Sherlock decided it was far more pleasant than its previous one. Green-Eyes' depression dulled the room and naturally, that annoyed Sherlock. After all, he hated boring and dull things. "Anyways…" Green-Eyes gave a teasing smile. "I take it you don't mind sharing a flat with me then?"

He snorted mentally; he should be the one asking that question.

"How do you feel about the violin? I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end." That was probably the tamest of his unusual habits.

"As long as you can put up with my motorbike at night. I kept it even after quitting the job; I like the adrenaline rush I get from racing around at night." They shared another amused glance. He supposed that was one thing they had in common; that need for excitement.

"I supposed I can tolerate your presence then. The address is 221B Baker Street. We'll meet there tomorrow evening, seven o'clock."


End file.
